"Got it," I said. "Do you need to swear me in?"

"Nope," she said. "I just need to process this form and give you your ticket." She turned back to her computer, typed for a few minutes, and then pressed the ENTER key. "The computer is generating your ticket now," she said. "It'll be a minute."

"Okay," I said. "Mind if I ask you a question?"

"I'm married," she said.

"That wasn't what I was going to ask," I said. "Do people really proposition you?"

"All the time," she said. "It's really annoying."

"Sorry about that," I said. She nodded. "What I was going to ask was if you've actually ever met anyone from CDF."

"You mean apart from enlistees?" I nodded. "No. The CDF has a corporation down here that handles recruiting, but none of us are actual CDF. I don't think even the CEO is. We get all our information and materials from the Colonial Union embassy staff and not the CDF directly. I don't think they come Earthside at all."

"Does it bother you to work for an organization you never met?"

"No," she said. "The work is okay and the pay is surprisingly good, considering how little money they've put in to decorate around here. Anyway, you're going to join an organization you've never met. Doesn't that bother you?"

"No," I admitted. "I'm old, my wife is dead and there's not much reason to stay here anymore. Are you going to join when the time comes?"

She shrugged. "I don't mind getting old."

"I didn't mind getting old when I was young, either," I said. "It's the being old now that's getting to me."

Her computer printer made a quiet hum and a business card–like object came out. She took it and handed it to me. "This is your ticket," she said to me. "It identifies you as John Perry and a CDF recruit. Don't lose it. Your shuttle leaves from right in front of this office in three days to go to the Dayton Airport. It departs at 8:30 A.M; we suggest you get here early. You'll be allowed only one carry-on bag, so please choose carefully among the things you wish to take.